Age or Glands?

I’m pulled from dream land into the semi-conscious by the light just barely peaking in through the black-out shades that cover my bedroom windows. I know when light hits my skin hormones are dispatched in an ancient dance to rouse me out of bed. I picture cortisol marching around banging pots with spoons somewhere inside me. Assessing whether or not I feel like getting up, I think, “these hormones are either impotent or non-existent”. My next thought, “..like god when something bad happens”. 
This makes me smile as I consider how clever I am. It also makes me picture my friend YM scolding me with, “Dude, does it always have to be about of god?”.  I’m somewhat obsessed with Theology, much to the distaste of many of my friends.
I’m working on it.
Laying there I wonder, “Do I have adrenal fatigue? Is there even such a thing as adrenal fatigue? Maybe I’m just getting old?” I comfort myself with something Meltzer told me, “I take a nap almost every day man”.  Maybe I just need to become a better napper, maybe that would help the general malaise I’ve been swimming in.  
Maybe this is simply the slowing down part of this journey as a human and as an ultrarunner. I then have a HTFU moment. Of course I’m tired, I just started training again. I think back to my early days of endurance training with my adventure racing teammates on DART. I didn’t even drink caffeine back then. That was real fatigue, and that was me almost a decade ago, at 28 years old.
I quickly remind myself that I’m also in a sort of coffee detox. I just spent a week in Seattle, and no matter how hard I try I cannot avoid a couple Americanos a day while there. What follows is a homecoming of general blah-ness. I just hope that is what I’m dealing with now.

My run today – which I just returned home from – was a complete failure. I started up the West side of Grandeur Peak and turned around after about .1 of a mile. I just didn’t feel like running the planned ten mile loop. Fighting back the self hate I simply turned around and walked back to my car.

I’m off to try and become an accomplished napper.